When not planning fancy parties at Farm Dover, Ed and I have been spending hours each day pulling thistle weed out of our fields. I can't say it is the most pleasant task, with all those thistle needles finding every inch of bare skin or poking through my overalls. Ouch, I scream as we make our way through each field. Over and over again. Ouch. Ouch.
Ed shovels the roots while I pull at the base of the plant, most of which are taller than me. We do get into a bit of a rhythm and it is satifying to see the 5-gallon bucket fill up with the pinky-purple flower heads that we pluck off the plants, but I will be glad when it is time to move on to the next invasive weed that pokes its head up in our fields.
Every once in a while we come across a surprise. In the middle of a particularly mean thistle plant Ed found a song sparrow nest. Makes me realize just how far a mama will go to protect her little ones.
|Down deep in the middle of this thistle is the song sparrow nest.|
|Song sparrow eggs – safe and sound at the bottom of a thistle weed.|